For Fun
by SoraGirl
Summary: Ron is convinced Hermione is incapable of having fun Hermione is determinded to prove him wrong. However, her plan backfires when after a few drinks, she ends revealing a lot more than she'd bargained for. K only for reference to alcohol
1. The Beginning

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter :(

**AN:** Part one of a two part fic. Don't let the title trick you; other than alcohol being involved, everything is pretty PG ;) Also, I'm in NO way encouraging underage drinking but since in the "wizarding world" you're considered an adult at 17, I assumed they'd be able to drink at that point, too.

**IMPORTANT NOTE:** For those who don't know the rules of the drinking game "Never Have I Ever", it works as follows: Basically, you go in a circle taking turns saying something you've never done for example "Never have I ever owned Harry Potter" then, anyone who HAS done that, has to take a drink. Hopefully that will make the following less confusing ;D

_For Fun_

"To your seventeenth."

Ron said with very little conviction. He gave an over exaggerated sigh, bringing his tiny shot glass up for a toast with his eyes still fixed on the woman of his dreams feeding wedding cake to his rather maimed older brother. It was a blow, that was for sure. Ron was certain that after Bill's werewolf attack he would have at least a _slightly_ improved chance of winning Fleur's heart. But alas, Fleur seemed more dedicated than ever to prove Mrs. Weasley wrong.

Harry gave a slightly bemused smile before gulping down the entirety of his glass, finishing off with a rather pained look on his face.

The rest of the table, Ron included, quickly gulped down the very potent firewhiskey. That is, of course, except for Hermione, who merely swirled the contents of her glass uneasily, a look of extreme distaste on her face.

"Is this _really_ necessary?" she asked.

Hermione had always had a certain aversion towards alcohol. Ron had decided it was because she had a "certain aversion" towards all things fun and had told her so. Hermione had given a very hoity sniff and after a long bit of arguing, finally agreed to take shots with the rest of the group to celebrate Harry's birthday.

"Of course it's necessary," Ron said, grabbing another shot glass. "It's Harry's 17th birthday, you _said_ you'd do it, and You-Know-Who is back. Who _knows_ if this is the last time we'll be able to enjoy ourselves before we're thrown into a world of terror, death, and destruction."

The chatter at their table quieted for a moment. Neville broke the silence when, with a look of utter distress, he grabbed another shot glass. "I'll drink to that."

Ron let out an amused snort while Hermione sighed. She took her glass to her nose, sniffed it, and pulled back with a cringe. "Do I have to?"

"Of course you don't _have_ to," Harry smirked. "But Ron's going to keep calling you a stuffy prude if you don't."

Hermione groaned, closed her eyes, and quickly threw back her drink. As soon as the dark liquid was gone, she let out a large, girlish gasp.

"That's terrible!" She could still taste the drink in her mouth and feel it in her throat. She held her hand out for someone to give her something to get rid of the taste. When no one did, she angrily grabbed the orange juice in front of Ron.

"Uh, Hermione, I don't-" Ron started, but Hermione had already gulped down the entirety of his drink. Ron looked at her, quite impressed.

Hermione suddenly looked miserable. "Oh god…that wasn't orange juice, was it?"

At this, both Fred and George let out a large guwaff from over their drinks.

As Hermione pulled out her wand and filled her glass with water, she shook her head. "I think that's all for me."

"Now, now Hermione," interjected George, who, along with his twin, had suddenly become interested in the situation, "Ron just started you off too strong. Now, if you wanted to start with a…" the boys had already magiced a few drinks to dance in front of Hermione.

"No, I don't think…" the brunette started, pushing the glasses back down.

"Told you she hated fun," Ron nodded to his brothers.

"I don't _hate_ fun, _Ronald_," Hermione bit back angrily, still pushing away the drinks the two older Weasley's had sent to her.

"Then you're just scared?" Ron retorted, eyebrow raised.

"No," she snapped back. "I just…why bother?"

"Because it's _fun_," Ron replied, downing what Hermione hoped was only his third shot.

He smirked and hit the empty glass down in front of her. "But I guess you're just too much of a stuffy bookworm to appreciate some fun."

This comment, of course, caught Harry's attention. His eyes flashed quickly to Hermione, hoping she would be in one of her better moods and simply ignore it. He had never really been fond of breaking up fights between the two before, much less now, when both were legally allowed to use magic.

Harry was quite thrown off when Hermione finally did react, pulling a shot glass to herself and finishing it in one fatal swig.

Fred and George let up a large whoop while Hermione shot a challenging look to Ron.

And so the festivities began…

-

"Never have I ever had dream about bonking teacher," Fred announced proudly, sometime later.

To Hermione's displeasure, quite a few boys raised their glass to this.

"Never have I ever…snogged in the library," Dean Thomas (whom Ginny had invited) said quite truthfully.

Ron took a swig before the statement was even finished, followed shortly after by Harry, who shot an apologetic look towards Ron before drinking.

"Uh, my sister!" Ron exclaimed, wincing.

"Uh, my library!" Hermione cried.

Neville, feeling rather depressed about his obvious inferiority in this department, mumbled bitterly "Never have I ever snogged anyone…ever…at all."

Of course, everyone at the table took this as a queue to drink except for-

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, noticing the rather embarrassed girl toying with her full shot glass.

"Oh shut up!" She bit back, redder than ever and wishing she had just taken the shot.

"Well, we can solve that," Seamus, who had been taking shots on almost ever occasion, grinned at Hermione and then fell out of his chair.

Ron ignored the drunken Seamus, his eyes focused on brown haired witch.

"But what about Krum?" he asked, almost proudly, as if he had caught her in a lie.

"Well, like I would have told you if you ever actually _asked-- _we were just friends. And I never let it get any farther than that."

The table got awkwardly silent for a moment and far to sober for George's liking.

"To Krum!" George announced quickly, raising his glass.

Hermione grinned and joined the table in shots.

The game only continued for a little while longer until most of the participants had a little too much too drink to try another round. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had gotten off fairly well, as George and Fred had been quick to target out the one player they thought would be the most hilarious drunk. Poor Neville had been the blunt off their joke and they purposely made statements they knew only _he _would have to drink to, such as: "Never have I ever flushed my pet down the toilet."

Hermione and Harry were laughing heartily at Neville, who was doing a fairly accurate blast ended skrewt impression on the ground nearby, when Fleur walked over to the table.

"Bill told me it was tradition 'or the bride to dance with the best man," Fleur purred behind Ron.

Ron was unsure whether he wanted to hit Bill or hug him. He nodded and took the shot in front of him before getting up and following Fleur onto the dance floor.

Hermione, who seemed to have a much lower alcohol tolerance than her male counterparts, was already feeling sufficiently drunk after her first few shots. She had planned to stop drinking as soon as the game ended, but she took one look at Ron practically drooling as he danced with Fleur and her plans changed.

"I'll show you _fun_," she growled glaring at the two as she threw back another glass.

--

Ron had meant to get back to the table quickly; he really had. It _was_ Harry's birthday after all, and he had been having a very good time with his friends. But he had, of course, drawn out the dance with Fleur as long as he could. Once that was over he _had _to give Bill a pat on the back for letting him dance with his fiancé. That, in turn, led to a reprimanding from his mother, which provoked a speech from his father, which ended up keeping Ron from the table for a good 45 minutes.

When he looked back, the table was noticeably emptier. Only George, Fred, and Seamus were left, and they were currently participating in a loud, drunken rendition of an old Irish drinking song. He had been planning on asking Hermione for a dance (still feeling a great deal braver than usual thanks to the firewhiskey), but she was nowhere to be found. Ron assumed she had gotten fed up with the boys' antics and left to find a less unruly crowd.

"Hey Harry," he said, finding his friend amidst a crowd on the dance floor. Harry was laughing, tossing around Ginny (who was also slightly inebriated) when Ron joined them.

"Hey big brother," Ginny giggled with slight guilt. "We were just-"

"Just make sure you stay away from libraries," Ron muttered.

Harry grinned at his friend, understanding (to some extent) how hard it must be for him to watch his best friend with his sister. He decided to change the subject. "So, how was the dance with Fleur?"

Ron looked longingly over to Fleur, who was dancing again with Bill. "Bitter sweet," he sighed.

"Maybe you should try to get another," Ginny suggested slyly, shooting Harry an evocative glance.

"I'm not _that_ drunk," Ron said, eyes still focused longingly (and a least a little jokingly) on Fleur.

"Don't be silly," Ginny said, "I—_Oh_ _my_ _**god**_."

Ginny's eyes were suddenly focused over Ron's shoulder, a look of horror plastered to her face. Ron raised his eyebrow and turned around. His jaw dropped.

"_Hermione_," he hissed at his female friend who was dancing, unbelievably drunk, on top of the table. As she giggled and knocked over glasses, more and more people began to turn their attention to her.

Ron rushed forward. Harry and Ginny remained motionless, too shocked to move.

"Hermione, get down," Ron whispered hurriedly, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards him.

"Ron!" she exclaimed loudly, still on the table. "Ron! You have red hair! Ron! Come up here! Come up here!"

As Ron tried to pull his friend off the table, she tried to pull him up. He looked apologetically at the sets of eyes now focused on him.

"Hermione, you need to get down," he tried again. Hermione became distracted, giving a large wave to Mr. Weasley, who had looked her way. Without Hermione pulling back, Ron became off balanced and Hermione came tumbling down from the table and into his arms.

"Hey," she snorted, faces inches from Ron.

"Uh, she's…just kidding! Everything's fine!" Ron laughed, waving to the crowd as Hermione still hung around his neck.

While Hermione was a small girl, and Ron was several feet taller than her, moving with her full weight on him was still a difficult task. Somehow, he managed to drag her to a nearby empty table. He struggled to unlock her arms from his neck. Once he managed it, she fell directly into a chair.

"Ron!" she said and started laughing.

"Hermione! What were you thinking? How much did you drink?" Ron was glancing around anxiously, making sure Hermione hadn't made _too_ much of a scene.

"Don't be such a nerd, Ron!" she snorted. "Who's the un-fun…liking..not liking…unfun…person who doesn't like fun _now_!" She finished with a victorious smile.

Ron was torn between a want to laugh at his usually serious friend being so…unserious and a deep guilt that his insults had been the reason for her getting _this_ terribly drunk.

"I wanted you to have a good time and loosen up a little. I _didn't_ want you dancing on top of tables," Ron admitted. He wondered if it was worth it to try to explain himself now when Hermione _clearly_ wasn't in a state to understand him.

Hermione was acting very strange indeed and had begun rubbing the skin of her shoulder very intensely, slipping off one of the two thin straps keeping up her dress. Ron couldn't help but have some impure thoughts about this and quickly reprimanded himself.

"_You_ just wish _you'd_ thought of getting on the table," she scoffed.

He couldn't help but let out a laugh and wirily grin. It was an expression Hermione happened to find very inviting.

"It's okay though," she purred, her voice heavy from all the alcohol. "There are other ways to have fun."

Ron was (needless to say) shocked when Hermione's hand slid with remarkable smoothness over to his cheek where it ran down and rested on his collar. He could feel her roughly pulling him in closer at the same time she lightly fingered the collar.

"'Mione," he warned, looking down at her hand. He wasn't sure if he was more afraid of what she might do…or what _he_ might do.

As stern as he was trying to sound, Hermione was not deterred. There was something so soft and familiar about the way he called her "Mione"…she loved it. But instead of telling him, he showed him.

Ron was caught off guard by the kiss; he pulled back as quickly as possible. "Hermione, _stop,_" he begged. He wanted to do the right thing; he wanted not to take advantage of his best friend, but she was making it _very_ hard on him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. You hate me don't you? You've always hated me..." She was tearing up, and Ron was sure it was only a matter of seconds before she began a full-scale hysterical breakdown.

"I don't hate you," he soothed, taking her hand in his. "You're just very, _very _drunk."

"That's not it." She was sure of her logic; she took a much larger sniff of air than she would have if she were sober. "You hate me, I know it."

"I _promise_ I don-"

"I know you went out with Lavander to make me angry!" she suddenly declared.

Ron had absolutely no idea how to handle this situation. Normally, under especially difficult circumstances, he would take a moment and ask "What would Hermione do?" Yet, here was his answer, as Hermione glared forward at him, red faced and tearing. He doubted she could have helped him even if she was sober. It wasn't the sort of thing you read about in textbooks.

To speak seriously and truthfully to someone this drunk felt ridiculous and pointless, yet when faced with such an honest declaration it was hard for him to respond with anything but the same frank honesty.

"Yeah, I did," he finally said and considered it a compromise. It was the first time he had admitted it out loud and really, the first time he had admitted it to himself.

"Why Ron?" The drunk witch's voice sounded a bit like the long, pained meow of a dying cat. "We were finally—I was finally…I was brave!" She snorted and smiled with some bitterness. "I had it _all_ planned out," she bragged, but quickly seemed to get distracted by the boy's tie, which she was now gently examining.

Ron should have known better, (and had a sober Hermione been around for support, he would have) but he let his curiosity get the best of him. "Planned what out?" he inquired.

"Everything," she pouted. "Asking you to Slughorn's party, exactly how the night would go. You know how I like planning…" She smiled and laughed. "But it's always a scheme anymore. That, this. I just wanted you to notice me, Ron. I can be fun. I know you think…but I can have fun. I have fun."

Despite the slurring of her words, Hermione's point got across very clear. Ron had an almost undeniable urge to be as open as she was being, to relate and spill, and he felt drunk too, on hope, possibility, and a bit of firewhiskey. However, as muddled as his logical side (which he liked to picture as a little Hermione standing on his shoulder) was by the mix of excitement and alcohol, it still managed to break threw enough to worry him about where the line between taking an opportunity and taking advantage lied.

"I do notice you, Hermione," he said quietly as he tried to hold so much back, "More than you could possibly know."

She looked up and caught his eyes, which had been sitting painfully and constantly on her. "You look tired," she breathed.

"A bit." It was an understatement. His hair was ruffled; his eyes were red and heavy, his tie was loose, and his shirt was untucked and wrinkled. Being the responsible one had completely exhausted him. He wondered if this was how Hermione felt all the time.

"I'm tired," she said and with nothing further, she slid with a complete lack of grace to the ground. She dragged herself closer to Ron's shins and leaned her head on top of his knees.

"Hermione," Ron said, "I really think you should drink some water."

She attempted to shake her head from its spot on his lap and giggled at her own ineffectiveness. She lay her back down and closed her eyes.

Ron, having held back in so many ways, allowed himself the small condolence of his hand pushing back Hermione's hair from her face and behind ear. With her eyes still closed, she smiled and when he started to pull his hand away, she stopped him with her own. He stroked her hair, and he felt her breathing begin to slow and become steady as she started drifting asleep.

"I love you, Ron," she whispered, with a yawn.

He knew it didn't matter what he said in response, she was nearly asleep and far too drunk to remember in the first place. He knew it didn't mater, but he told her earnestly back. "I love you too."

Ron wasn't sure how long it was between the time he said he loved his best friend to the time the music stopped playing and the caterer started packing. He had been lost in a daze of thought because it felt calm and natural to let those words slip out that it was terrifying. It felt right and that meant something big.

As he watched people begin to file off of the dance fool he realized Hermione would probably be appreciative if as few people as possible saw her in this state. He shuffled with delicate speed to lift her up into his arms. Thankfully, the walk to the Burrow was not far, and he took the liberty of laying her down in the closest empty bedroom…which just happened to be his. He pulled the covers over her as well as he could and, not wanting to cause any suspicion from the other guest, left the room.

Knowing Hermione was safe and secure, Ron finally allowed his exhaustion to overcome him. He threw himself on the couch and fell almost immediately to sleep.

To be continued:O

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	2. The End

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

AN: Thank you all SO much for the reviews! They really encouraged me to get this last chapter out as quickly as I could. Thank you so much :D I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

Warning: Shameless fluff ahead ;P

Part II

The next morning Ron was the first to wake up. In his mind, he blamed it on how uncomfortable the couch had been, but he wondered if it wasn't just that he was overwhelmingly anxious to wake up and find what had happen next, to see if it had all just been a dream. But of course, Hermione had not woken up ( nor had anyone else for that matter), so the redhead moved with a strange uncertainty to the kitchen. 

He was standing at the counter stirring coffee when he heard a shriek, followed by a groan, followed by a shout of "RONALD WEASLEY!"

Ron winced slightly before running towards the sound. He understood the problem as soon as he reached his doorway and saw his mother standing at it, jaw dropped. Hermione lay on the far edge of _his_ bed, covers pulled tightly around her, leaving a suspiciously empty spot on the mattress beside her. She responded to Mrs. Weasley's shriek with another low groan and the moving of a pillow over her head. Mrs. Weasley shut the door with a breathy, heated, and insincere, "Excuse me, sweetie."

Mrs. Weasley rounded on him like a women possessed. She took several deep breaths, moving her arms but saying nothing. Ron had faced death eaters and dementors, but he had never seen anything quite so terrifying.

"Mom, calm down," he tried fearfully, hand outstretched defensively before him. "I can explain. It's nothing."

"_NOTHING!?" _the enraged woman howled. "NOTHING!? So it's a usual thing for you to…to..._associate_ with young girls in the room _**I**_ provided for you! I have half a mind to-"

"Mum, it was only a joke. I'm sure his face will be back to normal in a few days," George stated preemptively, yawning from further up the stairs, Fred stood behind him rubbing his eyes. The two had heard yelling and had assumed their mother had discovered their latest "prank."

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Weasley snapped back impatiently.

It was then the twins noticed their fearful younger brother, cowering slightly behind her. "Uh, nothing. What has Ron done this time?" George asked, happy to shift the attention from his misdeeds.

"It appears your _brother _felt it would appropriate to participate in his _own_ honeymoon activities under _my_ roof," she spat. She turned back to Ron. "And with your _family_ in the _house._ I can hardly-"

"I didn't-" Ron started desperately.

Fred held his finger out to shush Ron and threw his arm around his mother's shoulder. "So disrespectful," he said gently to her. Meanwhile, George nudged Ron affectionately in the ribs and mouthed a "Well done." Fred turned and gave him a big thumbs up.

"Mom. I didn't-Hermione was really drunk last night and my bed was the clo-"

At this point, Fred and George could no longer contain themselves and both nearly fell to the floor, jaws dropped and eyebrows raised in a look that was a mix of shock, disbelief, amazement, and admiration.

And the look of Mrs. Weasley's rage only intensified. "IF YOU THINK-"

"I slept on the couch! By myself! I wasn't even in the room!" Ron finally blurted out as quickly as he could.

He saw his mother calm a little, and he knew he had gained a least a few seconds to explain himself.

"Hermione was really drunk last night, so I carried her inside because I figured she wouldn't want everyone to know about it and make a big deal and after all, it was mostly my fault…but I was really tired so I just laid her on the first empty bed I could find and passed out on the couch," he said in a single breath and tried to ignore the slightly disappointed looks on the twins' faces.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Weasley seemed to transfigure from a horrible, son-eating beast into a harmless and affectionate mother.

"What a gentlemen," she cooed with a loving smile and gently fixed Ron's mussed hair. "Come with me, dear." She started walking to the kitchen, Ron following close behind.

"That was disappointing," Fred mumbled to George as they watched the two walk away.

"Back to bed?" George asked.

"Oy," Fred nodded in approval.

In the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley was quickly throwing an odd mix of things into a very large mug. She pulled out her wand, mumbled an incantation, and tapped the glass three times.

"No need to worry about upsetting Hermione." She handed Ron the mug. "You just give her this, and I'll make sure no one is any wiser about her having a little to drink last night."

A _little_ to drink? At this point, Ron was sure Mrs. Weasley was one of the few individuals who _hadn't_ seen Hermione on top of the table last night. He was only too happy to keep it that way.

"Thanks, Mom," he said gently. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him and kissed him on the forehead. Ron headed quickly to his room.

When he opened the door, Hermione was still laying in the position she had been during his mother's first squeal. He sat down on the empty spot on the bed (the one that had nearly gotten him killed moments ago) and gently shook Hermione's shoulder.

"Go away…" she groaned from underneath the pillow.

"I think you might feel better if you drink this," Ron replied, his voice cracking a bit. In the absence of his terrifying mother, he was suddenly remembering the events of the previous night.

"Hermione," he tried again, again shaking her shoulder. "Hermione."

She groaned again. "Will you leave if I drink it?" she mumbled.

"Yeah."

She sat up, squinching her eyes against the light, and took the mug from Ron's hand. In seconds, she had downed the whole thing. Ron took the mug from her, and she closed her eyes and laid back down.

Good on his promise, Ron got up from the bed and moved slowly towards to the door.

"Ron," Hermione's voice came from the bed. It felt good for him to hear that voice again, her _real_ voice, not the slurred voice of last night or the gravelly voice of moments ago. He turned back around. "Don't leave."

He nodded (though Hermione's eyes were still closed) and sat back down on his bed beside her. She said nothing, so he tiredly leaned back and closed his eyes.

"I got really drunk, didn't I?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah."

Ron would have liked to say "No," but he thought it had probably been a rhetorical question, anyway. She had been extremely drunk and there was no way for either one of them to deny it.

Hermione sighed. "And I'm in your room because you were the one stuck taking care of me?"

"Not _stuck _really…" he attempted.

Hermione rolled to her side and opened her eyes, focusing them sincerely on his. "I'm sorry, Ron," she said. "The _last_ thing I wanted to do was ruin your night."

"You didn't ruin it." He was being honest. It certainly hadn't been the kind of night he was expecting, but _parts_ of it had been quite nice.

She laughed and shook her. "So it was fun having to drag me off of a table?"

Ron's heart skipped a beat. He had, for one reason or another, allowed himself to believe that Hermione had been so drunk she wouldn't possibly be able to remember anything that had happened. He breathed in deep, gathering the air and courage he was going to need if he intended to continue this conversation. And he _did_ intend to continue it.

"So…you remember everything?" he asked.

The blush that crept along Hermione's cheeks was enough of an answer. "I remember a lot….I remember I did…and _said_…some silly things."

Ron's heart sunk slightly. Was she taking it back? She she?

It was Hermione's turn to take a deep breath. She moved to sit upright on the bed by Ron. He stared at the wall in front of them, and she stared at her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, still blushing bright red.

He shook his head, still looking forward, but trying desperately to play cool. He didn't want her to pity him. "No, I mean. It's fine. You were drunk. I shouldn't have... I-It's fine."

"It's just…that's not how I wanted you to find out…"

Ron, who had been very busy trying to keep up his "apathetic" act, was suddenly very confused. She wasn't apologizing for taking it back…she was saying she meant it. He looked questioningly at her. She blushed and looked away.

"I mean, I was _going_ to tell you." Her confidence shook as she spoke, and her eyes darted back and fourth between Ron and anything else in the room. "Well maybe not _that_ exactly. But, the general idea. I didn't even know I felt _that_ until last night."

She paused for a second and pulled the covers slightly over her. Though she desperately wanted to run away and hide, she _forced_ herself to finish, once and for all, and to look Ron in the eye when she said, "But I _do_ feel it."

Ron remained silent, more unsure than ever, scared to be hopeful, scared to even move.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, quickly looking away. Though she hadn't expected it, she had _hoped_ for a positive response from Ron but was being met with a blank stare. "I know it's stupid, and I know it's the last thing a teenage boy wants to hear. You just want fun from a girl like Fleur…but things are just getting scary. And I just…it's just good for you to know."

Ron knew that this was something, that this was the kind of moment that changed things. It was a turning point, a golden opportunity, and he was absolutely terrified he would somehow screw it up. His bony white hands were shaking with anticipation and fear, so he fidgeted with them to try and cover it up.

"Do you…you're saying that…" he fumbled.

"Don't be such a git, Ron," she snapped suddenly, her face, already red from blush, grew a bit redder. She was already embarrassed, and he was making it worse. "Yes, I'm saying I love you. You don't have to act so terrified."

"I'm not terrified," he said, but the changing pitch of his voice told otherwise. "Okay, well, maybe a little, but not like that." He reached out one of his shaking hands to hold hers. "I just…you're my best mate, right? And I want you, but like, in more than a best mate way…and in the way where I want to bludgeon any arse who'd try to hurt you…or you know, kiss you. And…you're all I think about anymore, but I don't mind…and…" Ron looked very distressed; he let go of Hermione's hand. "I don't know…last night, when you said it to me, I didn't even think…I just said it back…and it wasn't weird or anything…it was just…comfortable. I mean, is that love? I don't know, is that love?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure," she admitted. She laughed a little, "I think it's just a _feeling_…somewhere here." She motioned somewhere between her chest and stomach and clenched her hand. As Ron watched her, he felt that same happy misery exactly where she was describing.

"I love you," he blurted out strangely at first. He paused and this time, looked at her sincerely. "I think I do love you."

Hermione and Ron both blushed a vivid shade of red. "Well, good then," Hermione said promptly.

"So, what next?" Ron asked nervously, playing with his hands again.

"I guess we could…" Hermione turned to him. The sheer proximity of their faces alerted both teens to exactly what the "next" step was.

Ron moved his hand forward nervously and paused. "So I.." he inched his hand forward again, tucking Hermione's hair behind her ear and letting it linger there. He moved forward in short, unsure bursts while she remained mostly frozen, blushing red. When he was only a few inches away he closed his eyes and quickly closed the gap, catching Hermione's lips with his.

The kiss was soft and sweet, but not lacking in length. When the two pulled back, they grinned.

"I thought…maybe it'd be weird," he admitted. "But…" he shook his head, slightly dizzy with glee. He suddenly became worried. "I mean, it wasn't weird for you, was it?"

Hermione smiled and responded with another kiss.

Though it's hard for any male to admit he is wrong, Ron couldn't help but see he had made a slight miscalculation.

Hermione Granger was very fun, indeed.

_Fin_.

Hope you liked it :D! Please review:D

Best wishes,

Soragirl


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